A secret impulse still impelled the steps of Mr. M--------, and the darkness of the night favoured his irresistible desire to satisfy the longings of his enamoured heart, by taking a last look at the shrine of its still worshipped idol. He proceeded cautiously through the rocks, and alighting, fastened his horse near a patch of herbage; then advanced towards the chapel--its gates were open--the silence of death hung over it. The rising moon, as it shone through the broken casements, flung round a dim religious light, and threw its quivering rays on _that_ spot where he had first beheld Glorvina and her father engaged in the interesting ceremonies of their religion. And to think that even at that moment he breathed the air that she respired, and was within a few paces of the spot she inhabited!--Overcome by the conviction, he resigned himself to the delirium which involved his heart and senses; and, governed by the overpowering impulse of the moment, he proceeded along that colonade through which he had distinctly followed her and the Prince on the night of his first arrival at the castle. It seemed to his heated brain as though he still pursued those fine and striking forms which almost appeared but the phantoms of fancy’s creation. On every mourning breeze he thought the sound of Glorvina’s voice was borne; and starting at the fall of every leaf, he almost expected to meet at each step the form of Father John, if not that of his faithless mistress; but the idea of her lover occurred not. The review of scenes so dear awakened only a recollection of past enjoyments; and in the fond dream of memory his present sufferings were for an interval suspended.